


me, you, and a big stone tower

by slappybappy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, alfred is a gay disaster, ivan is a poet, serious tags? who needs em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 22:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19485265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slappybappy/pseuds/slappybappy
Summary: There were two main things running through Alfred’s mind as he pulled himself up another platform of uneven stone walls.One: It was night.Two: He was risking his life.





	me, you, and a big stone tower

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2am and it’s unedited but my friend wanted me to publish it anyways oops

Alfred huffed, hands running along the building’s outerwall in a fumbled attempt to find another brick to climb up on. 

The night air was crisp around him, full of the smells of fresh bread and smoke from fireplaces. It was tempting to run back down and knock on a door, mud smeared on his face and begging for food. 

_ Well, more like jump back down,  _ he thought, casting a nervous glance at the large distance between him and the grassy floor now. 

The wind ruffled his blonde hair across his face, blue eyes narrowed in concentration, as he pulled himself up onto the unintentionally made stone platform. He could barely see where he was going, the gentle glow cast out from the window above him his only guide.

He had been doing this for a couple of days now, but it never seemed or get less exhilarating. He would climb this tower, up to the highest window, just to watch what happened inside. The first couple of times, it was mostly empty, but it was still exciting to get a glimpse of a noble person’s life.

Then the room slowly got more and more lively, even if they were small things. The bed showing signs of use. Letters and pieces of writing attached to the walls. New curtains attached to the windows, even though they never got closed. Then, the first actual sign of life inside.

A pale haired boy, hunched over a desk, quill moving across his paper, only stopping to dip in ink again.

..And Alfred hated to admit it, but that boy was the real reason he kept climbing up here. He looked about his age, and also looked like he could punt him through a stone wall. That was one of the many things Alfred found interesting about him. He was built strong, and would be a great worker on any farm, yet he seemed to spend all his time at this little desk, writing.

And now, Alfred had managed to pull himself up to the windowsill again, but there was one major thing wrong.

The boy wasn’t there.

Alfred’s eyes almost frantically scanned the room, searching for him. The light was still on, and he was obviously not in bed, so where was he? The desk being empty felt weird, almost alien. The stack of paper and ink that had been there just last night was gone, and it unnerved him. 

Then, the gentle opening of a door.  Alfred’s gaze snapped to the door, and found himself eye to eye with the pale haired boy.  Who, he now knew, had purple eyes.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, both of them surveying the scene. The boy was holding a letter stamped with a broken red wax seal, and there were small wet patches, as if it had been cried on.

And then Alfred was falling.

Alfred didn’t remember when he freaked out and slipped off the ledge, or when the purple eyed, pale haired boy rushed forward, throwing his window open and  _ just  _ managing to grab his arms. And everything seemed to come back to him as soon as the boy grabbed him, his hands warm in comparison to his own freezing skin.

Alfred half expected him to let go and drop him, but instead the boy pulled him inside the room, where Alfred instantly collapsed, gasping for breath from the near death experience, then flinched and looked up when a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder.

He found himself staring into the purple eyes of his rescuer, his face showing nothing but concern and confusion, and on top of that, the aforementioned face was only a couple of inches away from his. He quickly rolled away and stood, shuffling towards the window again.

“Ah, thanks for saving me! Now, I’ll just leave…” Alfred had one leg lowered out the window when the boy’s response came.

“No.”

He looked back up in confusion, to where the boy was standing, not too far away from him.

“You should stay here for a bit. It is cold outside.”

So, Alfred slowly climbed back in, the dirt from his boots flecking off onto the red, plush carpet. And that was how Alfred, the lowly farm boy, ended up eating a huge supper in a noble boy’s bedroom, the boy who he would come to know as Ivan.

The boy named Ivan who he would, eventually, find himself in love with, but that is a whole different story.

**Author's Note:**

> if i find motivation i might make a part two but don’t count on it


End file.
